IflSSB  LIBRARY 


TUFF 

An  Anthology  of  Verse 


BOSTON 

THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 
1919 


Copyright,  ipip,  by 
THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 


Boston,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
The   Four   Seas   Press 


STUFF 

Page 

E.   F.  J. 

PAD                 . 9 

ALONE IO 

ENTRE   NOUS II 

MECHANTE 12 

IF  I  COULD              13 

A.     L.     J. 

MONKEY  SPEAKS 14 

FRUSTRA              15 

THE    SPIDER l6 

TEMPLE  WOMEN 17 

G.    K. 

TIME   TELLS l8 

I  SEE   MOTION 19 

BETWEEN            20 

AN    OLD   SHIELD     ,  21 


STUFF 

Page 

R.  C.  P. 

FRUIT            22 

MURRE  OF  THE  FARALLONES 24 

THE    HUSBAND       ...                25 

THE   JOKE 26 

I    ASK    YOU 27 

M.    I.    B. 

THE    BEACH 28 

SMOKE,   PUFF 29 

OWN?            3O 

STREET  CORNER  ON  BROADWAY 3! 

M.   T.   B. 

BRONZE  BUDDHA 32 

MOMENT   ENCHANTE 33 

RACE            34 

YOU  DON'T  LIKE  .  .  .  ? 35 

AT   SIX 36 

w.  w. 

MERCURY 37 

SUPPER 38 

FOG •       •  39 

DANCE  OF  THE  SAND  SPRITE         .        ...        .  41 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY 
A.  C. 


PAD 

We,  snuggling  sit 

quite    close 

Encircled     by     tenuous     moonlight 
Saturated  with  the  dews  of  dusk. 

We     chant 
in   a  blinky  way, 
love     lorn     frogs 

on 
A  lily  pad. 


[9] 


ALONE 

On  the  green  cobweb-cracked  window  shade 
Wrinkled  and  worn  from  shielding  many  mes 
Two  sunbeams  flaunt  and  twirl  themselves. 

They  intoxicate, 
They  beckon : 

"Come  out,  that  you  too  may  dance 
With  one  other,  shimmery  and  warm!" 

Then  all  is  blurred  —  I  am  alone 
Behind  the  wrinkled  window  shade 

With  another  lost  me. 


[10] 


ENTRE  NOUS 

Do  I  love? 

Am  I  loved? 

Memories  are  as  rose  jars 
Some  lingeringly  sweet, 
Others  spicy,  pungent 
Yet  —  all  —  haunting. 
I  hug  them  to  myself. 
I  gaze 

into  the  moon's  rays 
I  whirl 

wrapping  myself, 
cuddling  in  them. 
I  feel 

warm  palms  caressing, 

holding  my  shoulders. 

Dazed  —  enthralled  —  I  nestle  in  fragrance 

I  do  love. 

I  am  loved. 


MECHANTE 

She  scampers  off 

To  the  dusty  green  walled  room, 

All  cobwebs  and  shadows, 

Her  little  fat  fingers  clutch 

Those  red  round  cherries. 

Gleefully,  breathlessly 

She  runs  to  her  little  red  chair 

And  her  smiling  faced  joujou  doll, 

Standing  like  a  gendarme 

Beside  the  old  fireplace 

Whose  hollow  is  filled 

With  a  big  black  kettle, 

Three  funny  horns 

Sticking  out  from  its  roundness. 

Holding  tight  to  the  arm  of  her  chair 

She  tries  to  sit  down  — 

But  her  eyes  are  big  and  round  with  fear 

She  gazes  at  her  joujou  doll, 

He  is  now  an  ugly,  bad  looking  thing, 

So  strange  and  fierce  — 

And  his  eyes  say: 

"Where  did  you  get  those  cherries?" 


[12] 


IF    I    COULD 

If  I  could 

I  would  make  your  eyeballs  into  buttons 

And  button  your  eyelids  down. 

I  would  change  your  spots  into  chunks  of  mud 

and  bat  them  at  you. 

I  would  put  two  curly-fluffy  feathers 

into  your  inquisitive  wet  nose. 

I  would  change  your  tail  into  a  cannon 

cracker. 
If  I  could 

I  wouldn't! 


[13] 


MONKEY  SPEAKS 

I  watch  my  brother,  man, 
With  philosophic  despair  — 
Has  he  forgot  so  soon  the  time 
When  we  were  Gods  in  India? 
Alas  for  the  future  of  my  race ! 
Man  has  no  tail. 

Truly  all  is  decadence! 


FRUSTRA ! 

Four  pollywogs  cavorting  in  a  glass, 
Spurring  the  algae  with  vibrant  tails, 
Staring  ruby-eyed  at  nothingness ; 
Four  embryo  frogs,  with  silent  brains, 
Basking  about  a  sunbeam  in  a  bowl. 

Aeons  have  passed  since  I, 

While  turning  hand-springs  in  a  pool  — 

Was  caught  and  gobbled  by  a  duck, 

Swallowed  entire 

Before  I  reached  my  froghood. 

This  time 

Shall  I  complete  my  froghood,  once  denied? 

Or,- 

Must  I  again  be  gulped 

To  serve  a  Duck-God's  idle  feast? 


[15] 


THE  SPIDER 

Endlessly,  tirelessly, 

Spinning,  twirling, 

He  makes  his  web. 

His  shiny  belly 

Gleams  and  quivers; 

His  bright  eyes  flash, 

Then  as  if  weary 

He  ravels  his  spinning 

And  hangs  from  his  thread 

Motionless  — 

A  mock  suicide. 


[16] 


TEMPLE  WOMEN 

At  dusk  through  the  sacred  gardens, 

Come  bands  of  Temple  Women 

Wearing  anklets  of  gold 

And  armlets  of  silver, 

They  bend  and  sway  in  the  dance,  naked, 

Whiter  than  lilies. 

Their  voices,  shrill  —  flutelike 

Summon  the  worshippers. 

With  beautiful  lips  and  breasts 

They  greet  the  Gods  in  the  Temples: 

They  are  cups  of  wine, 

Vessels  that  bear  its  fragrance, 

They  are  the  cups  of  the  Gods 

Who  take  them 

and  drain  them 

and  break  them! 


[17] 


TIME  TELLS 


Which    matters    most 
eleven  ? 

twelve  ? 

one? 

The  clock  strikes  — 
twelve. 


[18] 


I  see  motion  all  about  me: 

Through  the  elements  of  nature 

men 

animals 

inanimate  things, 
The  cause     .     .     .     ? 
Before  I  move  I  think. 


[19] 


BETWEEN  — 

Stars  and  electric  lights 
Both  twinkle. 
Stars  above 
Lights  below  — 
Sometimes  stars, 
Sometimes  lights, 
One  only  — 
Which? 


[20] 


An  old  shield  lies  useless  and  rejected, 
The  home  of  dust  and  spider-webs, 

Dull  it  is,  each  moment  its  dullness  thickens. 


An  old  woman  sits  useless  and  rejected, 
The  abode  of  wicked  thoughts, 

Furrowed  she  is,  each  moment  the  furrows  deepen. 


I  can  see  — 

A  polished  shield 
A  tilled  old  woman. 

Dust,  spider-webs  and  wicked  thoughts  are  only  tenants. 
I  can  polish  the  shield  — 
The  old  woman  must  till  herself. 


21] 


FRUIT 
[A  Protest] 

THE  FARMER 

It  bears  no  fruit, 
Therefore  the  tree  is  useless ; 
Cut  it  down. 

THE  LITTLE  BOY 

But,  Gee,  Pa, 

It's  got  grand  limbs  to  climb ! 

THE  LITTLE  GIRL 

It's  dark  and  cool  under  the  leaves; 
I  like  to  play  dolls  there 
When  it's  hot. 

THE  WIFE 

I've  got  kinda  used  to  it 
Leanin'  over  the  door, 
Sorta  protectin'  like. 

THE  DAUGHTER 

I  love  the  pink  of  the  apple  blossoms  in  the  spring, 
And  the  petals  falling  on  the  sharp  new  grass. 

THE  GRANDFATHER 

I  like  to  see  the  leaves  a  fallin' 

In  the  autumn,  too, 

And  I  like  the  feel  of  the  old  gray  bark. 

[22] 


THE  GRANDMOTHER 

I  love  to  watch  the  birds 
A  nestin'  there. 
And  in  the  winter 
When  the  limbs  are  bare 
They  cast  queer  shadows 
On  the  snow. 

THE  STRANGER 

All  this,  and  useless? 

THE   FARMER 

The  tree  is  useless 
Because  it  bears  no  fruit : 
Cut  it  down. 


[23] 


MURRE  OF  THE  FARALLONES 

Murre, 

Mother    Murre, 

Guarding  your  treasure 

Seems    but    a   pleasure ! 

Yet     the     rock     is     grim, 

Rough    its    splintered    rim, 

Close  below  the  wild  seas  beat, 

Overhead  the  gray  clouds  meet; 

Here  you  laid  your  egg  of  brown  and  green 

Like  the  sea  beneath  and  the  rock  between ; 

Proudly  you  sit  with  body  erect  and  head  held  high, 

Nature's  elements  thoughtlessly,  carelessly,  you  defy; 

Water,  earth  and  air  have  been  to  you  things  not  understood, 

Now,  with  the  same  nonchalance,  you  have  accepted  motherhood. 


[24] 


THE  HUSBAND 

When  the  years  are  few, 

Holding  her 

As  the  child 

A  flower; — 

Hot,  moist  fingers 

Grasping  the  stem 

Tightly 

Close  to  the  blossom. 

When  the  years  are  many, 

Holding  her 

As  the  artist 

A  flower; — 

Delicate  finger  tips 

Touching  the  stem 

Lightly 

Far  from  the  blossom. 


[25] 


THE  JOKE 

In  the  Court  of  the  World 
I  am  the  Clown,  the  Fool. 
The  Courtiers 
Take  Life  seriously, 
All  of  it  but  Love  — 
That  is  the  Great  Joke. 
I,  the  Fool, 

Take  Life  lightly, 

All  of  it  but  Love  — 

That  is  the  Great  Reality: 

Therefore  am  I 

Chief  Jester  to  His  Majesty, 

Mankind. 


[26] 


I  ask  you ! 

What  would  they  think, 

The  charlatan  verse-cadgers 

Of  other  ages, 

If  they  knew 

That  the  empirics  of  today 

Were  writing  clumsy  prose 

In  lines  of  varying  length, 

Calling  it  poetry 

And  selling  it 

For  real  money? 

Would  they  be  so  piqued, 

At  not  having  thought  of  it 

Themselves, 

That  they  could  not  laugh? 

I  ask  you ! 


[27] 


THE  BEACH 

Splotches  of  color  on  a  yellow  strand, 
Like  paint  flicked  upon  a  great  palette, 
I  am  one  of  the  splotches, 
I  muse,  and  wonder 
Are  they  ?     Am  I  ? 


[28] 


"Pass  the  pipe  — 

Smoke,  puff  — 

Puff,  —  smoke  — 

Such  is  the  Indian  pipe  of  peace,  dear." 

And  the  child 

Questions,  questions  so  wearily, 

"How  do  they  know  that  the  puff  is  of  peace? 

Do  they  tell  by  the  smoke 

Or  the  puff?" 


[29] 


OWN? 

I  touch  the  child 
Whom  I  love  as  my  own, 
And  then  —  as  always  — 
I  turn  and  question 
The  faces  of  women: 
Are  you  his  mother? 

Are  you  ? 

Is  he  your  child? 
Your  own  ?     Your  own ! 


[30] 


STREET  CORNER  ON  BROADWAY 

ELEVEN-THIRTY    P.     M. 

A  man,  and  a  woman  holding  a  baby,  stand  wait- 
ing for  a  street  car.  The  woman  joggles  her  baby 
until  the  little  head  hangs  over  her  arm  like  a  ripe 
cherry  about  to  drop  off.  The  baby  is  fast  asleep ;  the 
mother  shifts  the  child  several  times  and  then  slings 
it  under  her  arm,  supporting  it  on  her  hip.  She  stands 
in  the  gutter,  one  foot  on  the  curb;  her  long  black 
skirt  hangs  on  her,  dragging  its  full  weight  on  her 
back,  and  sops  up  the  filth.  Her  hat  is  askew — the 
woman  does  not  heed.  Her  face  kindles  with  expecta- 
tion as  each  car  stops  at  their  corner,  when  it  passes, 
her  eyes  grow  blank,  only  to  be  rekindled  by  that  ex- 
pectant look  as  the  next  car  approaches.  The  husband 
stands  with  head  bent  forward,  as  tho'  asleep.  At  last 
their  car  swings  round  the  corner — the  woman's  face 
brightens.  The  man  rouses  and  shakes  himself,  puts 
his  hand  in  his  pocket,  draws  it  out  again,  looks  at  the 
palm  and  carelessly  flips  a  coin :  "Huh !  Only  got  a 
nickle !  No  use  in  you  takin'  that  car.  Guess  I'll  buy 
a  smoke  with  this.  —  Come  on,  —  we'll  walk  home." 


BRONZE  BUDDHA 

Queer  dear 

heathen  god 
you  vex  me 
perplex  me 

Is  it  calm  or  satiate  you  are? 

Did  you  guess  the  mystic  three  ? 

Whence,  why,  where? 

They  vex  me 

perplex      me 

Dear  queer 

heathen    god 


[32] 


r~ — \  r     i 


MOMENT  ENCHANTS 

Love, 

let  \is  love 

as  we  may, 

Nor  bruise  our  hearts  by  clinging 
To  love  passed  on  its  way. 

You  are  you 

and 

I       am       I, 
Our    love    is 

and 
Then   is  not. 

In  the  world  old  game 

Let  us  play  our  part, 

And  give  not  a  thought  beyond. 

Love, 

let  us  love 

as  we  may, 
In  the  Moment  Enchante. 


[33] 


I  race  on  faster    faster, 
new  faces 

places 

new  pleasures  fly  past. 

I  race  on  faster        faster, 
steps  gain 

flight  is  vain 

out  distanced  at  last. 


[34] 


YOU  DON'T  LIKE! 

You  don't  like  your  home  ? 

Yes,  it  is  humble. 
You  don't  like  your  neighbors  ? 

Yes,  they  are  human. 
You  don't  like  your  life  ? 

Yes,  it  is  gray. 
You  focus  your  thoughts  on  heaven  ? 

Yes,  but  you  won't  like  heaven. 

You  will  still  be  you. 


[35] 


AT  SIX 

Keys  go  jingling  past  me 

down  the  halls, 
Some  are  noisy 

boasting  of  big  affairs, 
Some  are  tired 
But  each  eagerly  anxious 

for  a  world  beyond  a  door. 
One  key  is  never  ready    .    .    . 

When  it  passes 

I  am  sorry. 


[36] 


MERCURY 

Joy  Dances ! — Clouds  are,  rain  is, 

water  stinks  in  gutters. 

Joy    Runs ! Houses  glare,  windows  do  not  smile, 

People  stare,  frown,  pass  by. 

Joy  Races! Like  mercury  over  dirt 

Joy  leaves  no  trace 

on  houses,  street  or  faces. 


[37] 


SUPPER 

The  cook  sits  at  his  table 

with  his  plate  of  fried  potatoes  and  cornbeef. 

The  gas  burner  sheds  a  greenish  light 

on  his  bald  head. 

The  smoked  window  high  in  the  wall 

opens  on  a  stenching  alley. 

Two  flies  vainly  spin  around  and  around 

in  a  pot  of  warm  soup. 

Marie  Corelli's  "Romance  of  Two  Worlds" 

is  propped  against  the  catsup  bottle. 

A  waitress  bangs  the  door  and  bawls : 

"Two  cornbeef,  two  pies  and  a  Java !" 

The  cook  vainly  flutters  the  leaves 

of  Marie  Corelli. 


[38] 


FOG 

Fog. 

The  waves  break  with  a  sob, 

And  are  still. 
Again  with  a  sob  the  waves  break, 

And  are  still  — 
Again,  and  again. 

Far  out 

Is  the  sigh  of  the  whistling  buoy. 

Choked  with  fog, 

Drowned  in  the  surge 

Tossed  by  the  waves, 

The  buoy  is  rocking 

On  dead  men's  graves. 

Broken  and  hoarse 

Is  the  sigh  of  the  whistling  buoy: 

Long  breath  —  half  strangled, 

Then  a  gasp 

That  is  drowned  in  the  surge 

Like  the  moan  of  dead  men 

Lost  at  sea, 

Far  out  in  the  fog. 

Faint 
From  afar 
Comes  the  cry, 

[39] 


The  wild  cry 

Of  the  wandering  birds  of  the  sea  — 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  cry, 

Which  way  do  they  fly? 

Faint  from  afar 

Comes  the  cry, 

Faint 

Faint. 

With  a  sob  the  waves  break, 
And  are  still. 
Fog. 


[40] 


DANCE  OF  THE  SAND-SPRITE 

Dance  we  here  by  the  old  sea  floor, 
Rush  of  wave  and  wind's  wild  roar ! 
Dance  we  here  on  the  pounding  shore ! 

Scent  of  salt  spray  flying  down, 
Scent  of  moss  sea-flung  and  dry, 
Scent  of  surf  and  air  and  wind, 
Dance  we  light  to  the  sparkling  wave! 

White  the  rocking  foam, 
White  the  wind-spent  cloud, 
White  the  twisted  shell, 
Dance  we  light  and  lighter  still ! 

Screaming  gull,  and  crashing  tide, 
Piercing  breath  of  the  run-away  wind, 
Dance  we  faster,  faster  yet! 

Tipsy  cloud  and  reeling  sun, 
Swaying  sea  and  drunken  wind 
Come  laugh  aloud,  and  dance  with  us ! 
And  madly  whirl,  whirl,  whirl! 


Drop  we  here  in  the  warm  sand  dune, 
Sinking  sun  and  peaceful  cloud. 
Lulled  to  rest  by  the  long  sea  hiss, 
Lulled  by  the  stare  of  the  big  white  moon. 

Smothered  to  sleep  by  the  drifting  sand    . 
To     .     .    v 
Sleep    .    .    . 


[42] 


UCSB  LIBRARY 


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SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


IS  89 


SEP  2  6  1989 


Univerj 

Sout 

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